Fred and George Are Bored
by 321-ella
Summary: Hogwarts' favourite pranksters are bored. What mischief will they get to now? Set during the twins' third year. Oneshot.


Fred and George Are Bored

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. They belong to J K Rowling.

**A/N:** Wrote this as a breather between studying. I love writing Fred and George and I could say they are my favourite characters in the series. One day I'd like to write The Adventures of Gred and Forge... Meanwhile, enjoy! **Edit: **Completely spellchecked now (I think.)

"I'm bored, Fred."

"As am I, dear George, as am I..."

"Well, at least we are bored together."

"Fat load of comfort though that is, I think we should get un-bored, George."

"And since no one around here is good enough to do that - "

"- we should un-bore ourselves."

"Well-said, dear chap, well said... you took the words right out of my mouth."

Fred and George sat up from their respective beds and grinned identical mischievous grins.

"Right," said George, hopping across the dormitory to sit next to his twin, "what shall we do this time?"

"Mum did say not to get into too much trouble -"

"- so we try our hardest not to get expelled."

"The usual routine, then."

"Righty-o. But let's make the deed quite unusual. I want to end my year off with a bang."

"Dungbomb at Filch?"

"I said bang, not stench."

"Illegal trip to Zonko's?"

"I'm thinking unique, never-before-seen, something that'll leave the Weasley name in the mischief history books -"

"- before ickle Ronnie wipes it off again, of course -"

"- has anyone ever stolen McGonagall's pointy hat?"

"Rupert Galloway, I think - turned him to a bowler for a while, they say."

"Stolen Harry's glasses?"

"That's cruel. Wouldn't want him handicapped, now would we?"

"Suppose not."

Fred plopped down onto the cushions of his bed.

"George.. I reckon we're losing our touch."

"No!" George looked alarmed at the idea. "Don't say that, Fred! We're only... experiencing ... trickster's block, is all..."

"Still... we're getting quite into our years, George."

"We're only fifteen -"

"And Percy? When did her turn into a snob? Three?"

"Dunno. Don't remember quite that far back."

"Let us concentrate on this pressing problem."

Fred and George thought for a long time, spurred on by the horrible idea of becoming twin Percys - upturned nose and prefect badges! The very i-dea!

Finally George pulled himself up, smiling triumphantly and nearly knocking his head on the bunk bed above in his haste. He looked at Fred with a look. Fred knew that look - it was the look they usually wore a few hours before they earned a detention.

Fred rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"What's the plan, then, George?"

"Dear brother, do you remember the day we left for Hogwarts, third year? September the first?"

"Sure." Fred's brown pulled together. "But - "

"D'you remember what Mum told us?"

"Keep out of trouble and don't do anything foolish? But that's what she always - "

"And then..."

Fred thought, then raised his head.

"She said she didn't want to get a Hogwarts letter telling her that - "

"- we'd blown up a toilet seat!"

"We told her we wouldn't -"

"- and we were much too innocent to, back then - "

"- but now..."

The twins were positively jumping with excitement and their eyes danced with glee.

"Think we're jaded enough for this?"

"For sure."

If one had, for some odd reason, the sudden fancy to sit outside the Gryffindor common room around midnight that night, one could have noticed the snoring Fat Lady's portrait creaking slowly open, and a, boyish figure, dressed all in black, black cloak pulled tightly over both shoulders, look carefully both ways into the dark corridor, then, seeing it clear of all living - and ghostly - creatures, make an "all-clear" gesture over his shoulder and hop nimbly out of the portrait hole, clearing the way for a similarly clad figure to exit as well. The two pushed the portrait shut again, wincing at the creaks; then tiptoes stealthily into the darkness.

it was all quite well done, really. One could have passed them by and almost not noticed them at all - almost, because unfortunately neither had thought of pulling up their hood; and their vivid red hair seemed to reflect non-existent light, turning their rapidly retreating heads into bright pinpricks in the night.

The two figures arrived at the third-floor male bathrooms without mishap. Checking under the stalls for other late-night visitors, and finding none, one of the two entered the furthest stall from the door and shut the door behind him. THe other pulled out a scrap of parchment from his pocket, and tapped it with his wand; ink curled upon it, forming a map-like diagram. He studied it intently for a minute, then whispered:

"We're clear."

Inside the stall, the other nodded. Shrugging off his backpack, he pulled out a screwdriver, Zonko's firecrackers, Exploding Snap cards - wait, what?

"George!"

"Hmm?" came the whispered reply.

"What the hell did you pack in here?"

"Um," George answered hesitantly. "Explosives?"

"Firecrackers? _Exploding Snap cards?_"

"Well, I wasn't sure what to bring -"

"A screwdriver?" Fred sighed. "Well, it'll have to do now, won't it?"

Fred rolled his eyes. This was not going according to plan at all.

He hastened to unscrew the bolts of the toilet bowl, but immediately felt stupid, tossed the screwdriver aside and grabbed his wand. A muttered incantation detached the toilet bowl from the tiled floor, but it wasn't quite over yet - there was still the plumbing to deal with. With a grunt of exertion Fred lifted the bowl a few inches, then stuffed a firecracker halfway into the space with his foot. With a flick of his wand he lit the fuse, and as it burned he prayed that George hadn't forgotten -

BOOM.

The sound resonated on the walls, shook the floor. Fred covered his face with his hands, but through the fingers he could still see blue and white lights bouncing off the walls. They all missed him by inches, and he began to worry they would light his hair on fire. Then, as quickly as they had appeared, they were gone.

Fred coughed. His hands were blackened with soot. As were his clothes, but they were already too black to tell. He opened the stall door cautiously.

"George, did you -"

"What?"

"Muffle the sound of the explosion?"

"Ah... no."

"Great," Fred snapped. "You got the map, at least?"

"Yeah, I -" George looked down at his empty hands. He then spotted the map a few meters away, and lunged for it. Scrambling to get up, he examined it. A spot was hurrying down the hallway.

"Hide!"

They hopped into the stall and stood onto the wrecked toilet seat. They locked the door, breathing heavily. They could hear footsteps approaching and a voice cackling ominously.

"Peeves! You're really going to get it this time..."

Filch's footsteps were coming nearer.

"Where are you, Peeves? Scared, are you?"

He came to the locked door and shoved. It wouldn't open. The twins thanked their lucky stars that Filch was a Squib.

"Peeves!" Filch's breathing could be heard on the other side of the door, and the twins tried to make as little noise as possible.

"Peeves!" I'm going to go get the Headmaster, you just see, and you'll be expulsed for good!"

More insistent shoving.

"Let me just wait for Mrs Norris -"

The twins' eyes widened. If Filch was an idiot, Mrs Norris sure wasn't. What's more, she could slip under the door easily.

They needed a distraction, and they hadn't packed any. They crossed their fingers and prayed for a miracle.

BOOM.

"What the - Peeves!"

Filch ran from the washrooms, chasing after Peeves - the true perpetrator this time, no doubt. Fred and George let out a sigh of relief. Looking at the map, they could see Filch running after a wildly swerving Peeves, Mrs Norris at his heels. Meanwhile, the second-floor hallway was deserted.

"Let's get out of here," Fred whispered, and pointed his wand at the toilet bowl. "_Wingardium Leviosa._"

It rose into the air as if it didn't weigh a thing. Fred and George left the washrooms speedwalking, George leading the way with the map followed by Fred and the toilet. Surprisingly they arrived at their dormitories without incident - perhaps because they had already used up their quota of bad luck for the day. Their roommates were asleep and they were able to maneuver the bowl into the closet.

"Now," Fred whispered as they closed the closet door, "how much d'you suppose postage costs for this?"

**A/N:** I really enjoyed writing this story. Forgive me if I made George a little distracted, but it had to be one of them and Fred is my favourite character - possibly because he dies, I don't know. Anyways I wanted to give him a good full smart life in my short story. In case you didn't know I am also writing a long story, Star in the Darkness, which is nothing at all like this and is set during Harry's sixth-year. Check it out if you're interested. **Review!**


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